This despair did not last long. It was not in Leah's nature to
despair. But her wildest hopes were exceeded when she set foot again
in Hamburg and explained her hard case to the good committee, and a
member gave her an informal hint which was like a flash of light from
Heaven--its answer to her ceaseless prayer. Ellis Island was not the
only way of approaching the Land of Promise. You could go round about
through Canada, where they were not so particular, and you could slip
in by rail from Montreal without attracting much attention. True,
there was the extra expense.
Expense! Leah would have gladly parted with her last rouble to unite
Biela with her bridegroom. There must be no delay. A steamer for
Canada was waiting to sail. What a fool she had been not to think that
out for herself! Yes, but there was Biela's timidity again to
consider. Travel by herself through this unknown Canada! And then if
they were not so particular, why could not Leah slip through likewise?
"Yes, but my eyes are more noticeable. I might again do you an
injury."
"We will separate at the landing-stage and the frontier. We will
pretend to be strangers." Biela's wits were sharpened by the crisis.
"Well, I can only lose the passage-money," said Leah, and resolved to
take the risk. She wrote a letter to Srul explaining the daring
invasion of New York overland which they were to attempt, and was
about to post it, when Biela said:--
"Poor Srul! And if I shall not get in after all!" Leah's face fell.
"True," she pondered. "He will have a more heart-breaking
disappointment than before."
"Let us not kindle their hopes. After all, if we get in, we shall only
be a few days later than our letter. And then think of the joy of the
surprise."
"You are right, Biela," and Leah's face glowed again with the
anticipated joy of the surprise.
The journey to Canada was longer than to the States, and the
"freight" was less companionable. There were fewer Jews and women,
more stalwart shepherds, miners, and dock-labourers. When after eleven
days, land came, it was not touched at, but only remained cheeringly
on the horizon for the rest of the voyage. At last the sisters found
themselves unmolested on one of the many wharves of Montreal. But they
would not linger a day in this unhomely city. The next morning saw
them, dazed and worn out but happy-hearted, dodging the monstrous
catapults of the New York motor-cars, while a Polish porter helped
them with their bundles and convoyed them toward Srul's store. Ah,
what ecstasy to be unregarded units of this free chaotic crowd.
Outside the store--what a wonderful store it was, larger than the
largest in the weavers' colony!--the sisters paused a moment to roll
the coming bliss under their tongues. They peeped in. Ah, there is
Srul behind the counter, waiting for customers. Ah, ah, he little
knows what customers are waiting for him! They turned and kissed each
other for mere joy.
"Draw your shawl over your face," whispered Leah merrily. "Go in and
ask him if he has a wedding-veil." Biela slipped in, brimming over
with mischief and tears.
"Yes, Miss?" said Srul, with his smartest store manner.
"I want a wedding-veil of white lace," she said in Yiddish. At her
voice Srul started. Biela could keep up the joke no longer. "Srul, my
darling Srul!" she cried hysterically, her arms yearning to reach him
across the counter.
He drew back, pale, gasping for breath.
"Ah, my dear ones!" blubbered Leah, rushing in. "God has been good to
you, after all."
"But--but--how did you get in?" he cried, staring.
"Never mind how we got in," said Leah, every pock-mark glistening with
smiles and tears. "And where is Tsirrele--my dear little Tsirrele?"
"She--she is out marketing, with the mother."
"And the mother?"
"She is well and happy."
"Thank God!" said Leah fervently, and beckoned the porter with the
bundles.
"But--but I let the room," he said, flushing. "I did not know that--I
could not afford--"
"Never mind, we will find a room. The day is yet high." She settled
with the porter.
Meantime Srul had begun playing nervously with a pair of scissors. He
snipped a gorgeous piece of stuff to fragments.
"What are you doing?" said Biela at last.
"Oh--I--" he burst into a nervous laugh. "And so you ran the blockade
after all. But--but I expect customers every minute--we can't talk
now. Go inside and rest, Biela: you will find a sofa in the parlour.
Leah, I want--I want to talk to you."
Leah flashed a swift glance at him as Biela, vaguely chilled, moved
through the back door into the revivifying splendours of the parlour.
"Something is wrong, Srul," Leah said hoarsely. "Tsirrele is not here.
You feared to tell us."